


This

by theoceanpath



Series: Featherless [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Companion fic of sorts to It's Golden Still, Gen, Probably Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 06:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21453454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoceanpath/pseuds/theoceanpath
Summary: When you were born you thought you could be anything you wanted. When you met him all he asked was for you to be kind.inspired by salchowproblem's fic
Relationships: Yuzuru Hanyu/Kōri 氷
Series: Featherless [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546285
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	This

_I wanted the ocean_, you curse under your breath when you stare into the mirror. But child of winter you are, pale harsh features and unforgiving temper, every piece hard and cruel and deadly.

Lonely.

You can't help but cry, just a little, just enough to blur the shape of your skin into something even more uninviting. Then the tears arrange themselves; you are yourself again when you glance at the reflective ceiling. You are perfect.

You are freezing.

* * *

When you were born you thought you could be anything you wanted. You yearned for the sea; you dreamed of unfettered journeys and the joy of never being caged by time or the rest of the meaningless restraints of earth dwellers. You longed for secrets so great and bountiful it would take a hundred lifetimes to unravel them all.

The time came when you were of age and salt and mist divided the waters among their children: the rivers, the lakes, the noisy gullies, the underground streams that burn fierce and spend their days leaping toward the sun.

_You like penguins, don't you?_ was the elders' callous attempt to cheer you up. _You will like it here._

_Here_ meant the bottom of the world, where the wind keeps its garrison of sickles, where all the colors are too frightened to touch the ground. _Here_ meant emptiness.

Your siblings got the spoils. You got the ice. The coldest thing. The most dreaded thing. Accept_ your fate, they urged you. Something good will come out of this._ They said many things and they laughed a lot, and you hated them.

One sister became the snow. She cried for months, and you were too hurt to offer sympathy.

_You are brave_, everyone would say. _You are not like us. You are strong._

At first you believed them.

But the year passed, and you realized things. You are not brave. You are not great. You are not strong.

You are cold.

You are brittle.

And you are alone.

* * *

You grow stronger the next year, and then the next. You teach your skin not to shiver. You discover how to stretch yourself flat upon bodies of water and how to fit yourself into crevices in the rocks. Your show your lungs how to— why, your lungs don't exist anymore.

On the day you finally make your heart stop beating, a little boy scrapes his elbow on your back.

_Please be nice. Please be nic_e, he pleads. _Don't let me fall._

He is nice and hardworking and very cute when he slides and stumbles. Most of all, he is persistent. He comes back the next day, and the next week, and the next month, each time more determined than ever. He fights through every fall, brushing off fresh rounds of bruises as roadsigns pointing him to something great.

_Please take care of me. Please be kind. Please let me get up when I fall._

And so you try to be good to him, to be good _for_ him. You try to catch him when he stumbles. You try to soothe his blisters with the numbness you accumulated over the years. He thanks you for that and promises to do better.

Humans _fall_ a lot, you realize. But one of those nights when he zooms around like a little fledgling on the brink of flight, you wonder if waterfalls can be rendered frozen too.

* * *

He calls it love at first sight. It must have been the same for you, since the very first step, since that first time he fell.

_I'll give you Spring_, he promises when he is old enough to switch countries and wise enough to listen when you tell him your secret wish.

You miss your sisters' world, you confess. The flowers won't wait for you. They don't like you. You never see them.

_I'll bring you flowers_, he says, sure and true as the arrows he's named after. He picks cherry blossoms because he knows you dream of them the most. He tosses a handful of snow in the air to mimic falling petals. It's a beautiful sight, and the audience screams when he does so, but all you can see is the smile on his face illuminated by soft light.

* * *

His exhibition number is a pleasant surprise. He clothes himself in the blue pleats of an old program, a cocky and powerful one, and once again he is young and wild and on top of the world. With a snap of his shoulders he reels in the spider silk of time, its dips and bends, the things that stick far longer than they should.

_Ladies and gentlemen_, the voice booms. And you lie very still as the light descends around his features. Blade marks wind around you like spare guitar strings. He's smiling at the fans waving from the stands and then…

Then his eyes are on you.

Every move draws screams from the audience; all of you feel an unparalleled fondness for him tonight. But his eyes are on you now.

He kisses you soft and sweet, declaring his love before the crowd and the rest of the world. They're all envious. They all want him.

He leans down, holding you, embracing you. The music screams but your world is quiet. All you know is the touch of soft gloves and soft lips. You don't even register how his blades slice into you.

You are the ice. You are hard and cold and immune to nicks and scratches. You've suffered countless thousands of them from an endless stream of humans and not one of them has dug deep enough for you to bleed.

Except his.

Except when you bleed you glow with rainbow colors, one for each of his costumes.

He glides and jumps and thrills. Fast. Precise. Perfect. You crave the sensation of that pair of black skates cutting their initials into you, tracing their name all over you, carving their vision into the threads of your being.

If he notices the shudder that ripples through you, he doesn't say a word.

_I wanted to be the ocean_, you whisper to him before he takes his skate guards off. His costume is blue, so blue. It reminds you of many things young and foolish, such as throwing a tantrum when destiny chose to unlock your door.

_I wanted to be free._

He presses his fingers to your cheeks and winks. It's his way of thanking you. It's your little secret.

_And now all I want is just..._

_(A million diamonds, a million snowfalls, a million jumps landed)_

_You and me._

_This._

**Author's Note:**

> "Look in my eyes, they will tell you the truth  
The girl in my story has always been you."  
~Lover Remix


End file.
